Life viewed from a Rural perspective.

Die winter, die

I think winter needs to close its show and move out of town. I cannot
remember a recent winter which has overstayed its welcome to such
perfection as the one most current.

As a young man near Viking, Minnesota, I remember long winters which were probably longer in my adolescent mind than they were in reality. One spring, I recall
standing on a pile of snow with a shovel throwing scoops of snow onto
any bare ground I could find as I figured it would melt faster. I had
not discovered the word “futility” at the time however it is obvious
that I already understood the word’s meaning.

I do recall helping my brother, Darrel, build snow forts. We would
hollow out a large hill into a cave and then he and my cousin Tommy,
would destroy it. I found this frustrating and was always happy when
Tommy went back to Roseau, Minnesota as Darrel was then less destructive. Lisa
and I were talking last night and came up with the idea of extended
snow tunnels. We thought it would be a good idea to lay out large,
plastic culverts prior to winter’s arrival and then just allow the
snow to envelope the culverts. This might be a bit expensive but
would be an excellent tool to wear a little energy from young
children who are tired of being indoors. It would be a sort of
“habitrail” like we used to set up for gerbils, only sized for the
kids and snow-covered. A door could also be installed at each end of
the tunnel for when mommy and daddy need extended quiet time although
you might want to try some family counseling prior to taking this
step.

I drove home in the storm on Monday. I spent the last eight miles on
the Pembina Trail which is about ten miles west of Thief River Falls, Minnesota. It was awful. This was a storm that provided four to five inches of snow but was also able to enlist prior snowfall waiting on the ground to create an incredibly strong winter
storm/blizzard. The wind was out of the north and so created absolute
havoc on the Pembina Trail which is a north/south road. The drifting
was high enough that I needed to maintain a little momentum to push
through with the pick-up however the blowing snow was so dense and
glared so brightly that I had trouble seeing. I spent most of my trip
looking for little pieces of tar road which I used to navigate. The
curved portions of road were the worst and I almost had to stop at the
last one. I even whispered to myself, “well I guess the jig is up”
but then found some trees by which to guide myself. Here’s a little
advice to winter travelers, always travel on familiar roads, if
possible-it makes all the difference. Better still, wait for summer
for all travel.

Our mailbox was broken from its mast sometimes just after the storm.
Whoever did it just stuck it back into the snow and skulked away. I
fixed it the next day instead of waiting for a warning from the post
office. Always nice when someone else gets to break something and you
get to fix it. It is just one more slice in the winter of a thousand
cuts. Die Winter, Die.

2 Responses to “Die winter, die”

Grant, you need to buy a snowmobile (a new Arctic Cat, not an old John Deere). Then you would enjoy winter and would be wishing it would stick around until at least May. I’m sure Kirk Hibbert can fix you up with a good one. As for becoming addicted to snowmobiling, just go visit your neighbor Lyle Swanson. You might catch some of his passion for the sport.